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Begin Reading Table of Contents A Preview of The Billionaire Next Door Newsletters Copyright Page Hachette Book Group supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights. John Lemmon, thank you for driving me to State Street a few days before Christmas, dropping to one knee, and asking me to be your bride. I’ve never once regretted saying yes. Acknowledgments Ah, the billionaire! It’s like returning to my roots. Whether you’ve been with me since the beginning or are just now discovering me: thanks a billion. Thank you to Michele Bidelspach for your editorial prowess, Nicole Resciniti for your agent superpowers, and to everyone at Forever Romance who had a part in editing, designing, and producing this book. As always, thank you to my friends and family and my dear husband, who have to deal with me during deadline time. I’m so lucky you all love me enough to put up with me! Chapter 1 The Van Heusen Hotel was the love of Merina Van Heusen’s life. The historical building dominated the corner of Rush and East Chicago Avenue, regal and beautiful, a living work of art. Her parents’ hotel had once been the Bell Terrace, home away from home to celebrities such as Audrey Hepburn, Sammy Davis Jr., and more recently, Lady Gaga and the late Robin Williams. The original structure perished in the Great Chicago Fire of 1871, only to be resurrected bigger, better, and more beautiful. There was a life lesson in there. Latte in hand, Merina breathed in the air in the lobby, a mix of vanilla and cinnamon. Faint but reminiscent of the famed dessert invented in the hotel’s kitchen: the snickerdoodle. On her way past Arnold, who stood checking a guest into the hotel, she snagged one of the fresh-baked cookies off a plate and winked at him. The dark-skinned older man slid her a smile and winked back. Having practically grown up here, the VH was a second home to her. Arnold had started out as a bellman and had worked here for as long she could remember. He was as good as family. She dumped her purse in her office and finished her cookie, holding on to the latte while she meandered down the hallways, checking to make sure there were no trays outside the doors that needed collecting. At the end of the corridor on the first floor, she saw a man outside one of the rooms, drill whirring away. “Excuse me,” she called. Then had to call again to be heard over the sound. When she came into view, he paused the drilling and looked up at her. He wore a tool belt and navy uniform, and the antique doorknob was sitting on the floor at his feet along with a small pile of sawdust. “What are you doing?” she asked, bending to pick up the heavy brass. Her parents had done away with “real keys” the moment they took over, installing the popular keycard entry hotels now used, but the antique doorknobs remained. “Installing the fingerprint entry.” From his pocket, the uniformed man pulled out a small silver pad with a black opening, then went back to drilling. “No, no, no.” She placed the doorknob back on the ground and dusted her hand on her skirt. “We’re not doing any fingerprint entry.” She offered a patient smile. “You need to double-check your work order.” He gave her a confused look. “Ma’am?” He was looking at Merina, but his voice was raised. Merina’s mother, Jolie, appeared from behind the hotel room door, her eyebrows raising into hair that used to be the same honeyed shade of blond as Merina’s but now was more blond to hide the gray. “Oh, Merina!” Her mother smiled, but her expression looked a little pained. “Can you give me a minute with my daughter, Gary?” Like she was Gary’s mother, Jolie fished a five-dollar bill from her pocket and pressed it into his palm. “Go to the restaurant and have Sharon make you a caramel macchiato. You won’t be sorry.” Gary frowned but took the cash. Merina shook her head as he walked away. “Sweetheart.” Jolie offered another smile. A tight-lipped one meaning there was bad news. Like when Merina’s cat, Sherwood, had been hit by a car and Jolie had to break it to her. “Come in. Sit.” She popped open the door and Merina entered the guest room. White duvets and molded woodwork, modern flat-screen televisions and artwork. Red, gold, and deep orange accents added to the richness of the palette and were meant to show that a fire may have taken down the original building but couldn’t keep it down. Jolie gestured to the chair by the desk. Merina refused to sit. “Mom. What’s going on?” On the end of a sigh that didn’t make Merina feel any better, her mother spoke. “Several changes have been ordered for the Van Heusen in order to modernize it. Fingerprint entry is just one of them. Also, the elevators will be replaced.” “Why?” Merina pictured the gold decorative doors with a Phoenix, the mythical bird that arose from the ashes of its predecessor, emblazoned on them. If there was a beating heart in the Van Heusen, it was that symbol. Her stomach turned. Instead of answering, Jolie continued. “Then there’s the carpeting. The tapestry design won’t fit in with the new scheme. And probably the molding and ceiling medallions will all be replaced.” She sighed again. “It’s a new era.” “When did you take to day-drinking?” Merina asked, only half kidding. Her mother laughed, but it was brief and faded almost instantly. She touched Merina’s arm gently. “Sweetheart. We were going to tell you, but we wanted to make sure there really was no going back. I didn’t expect the locksmith to arrive today.” Her eyes strayed to the door. Merina’s patience fizzled. “Tell me what?” “Your father and I sold the Van Heusen to Alexander Crane six months ago. At the time, he had no plans on making any changes at all, but now that he’s retiring, the hotel has fallen to his oldest son. Evidently, Reese had different ideas.” At that pronouncement, Jolie’s normally sunny attitude clouded over. Merina knew the Cranes. The Crane Hotel was the biggest corporate hotel outfit in the city, the second biggest in the nation. Alexander (better known as “Big Crane”) and his sons ran it, local celebrities of sorts. She’d also read about Big Crane’s retirement and Reese’s likely ascension to CEO. But none of that mattered. There was only one newly learned fact bouncing around in her brain. “You sold the Van Heusen?” She needed that chair after all. She sank into it, mind blanking of everything except for one name: Reese Crane. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Merina stood up again. She couldn’t sit. She could not remain still while this was happening. Correction: This had happened. “Why didn’t you talk to me first?” “You know we’d never include you in our financial difficulties, Merina.” Jolie clucked her tongue. Financial difficulties? “Bankruptcy was not an option,” her mom said. “Plus, selling gave us the best of both worlds. No financial responsibility and we keep our jobs.” “With Reese Crane as your boss!” Her mind spun after she said it aloud. My God. They would be answering to that arrogant, idiotic…“No.” Merina shook her head as she strode past her mother. “This is a mistake.” And there had to be a way to undo it. “Merina!” her mother called after her as Merina bent and collected the discarded doorknob off the ground. She strode through the lobby, dumping the remainder of her latte in the wastebasket by the front desk, and then stomped outside. As luck would have it, the light drizzle turned into steady rain the second she marched through the crosswalk. Angry as she was, she’d bet that steam rose off her body where the raindrops pelted her. “That stupid, smarmy jackass!” she said as she pushed through a small crowd of people hustling through the crosswalk. Because seriously, who in their right mind would reconstruct the Van Heusen? Fingerprint entry? This wasn’t a James Bond movie! She caught a few sideways glances, but it was hard to tell if they were because she was muttering to herself like a loopy homeless person or because she was carrying a disembodied doorknob around with her. Could be both. Her parents had sold the Van Heusen to the biggest, most ostentatious hotel chain in the world. And without telling their own daughter, who also happened to be the hotel’s manager! How close to bankruptcy had they been? Couldn’t Merina have helped? She’d never know now that they’d sneaked behind her back. How could they do this to me? Merina was as much a part of that hotel as they were. Her mother acted as if selling it was nothing more than an inconvenience.

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